Yesterday we went to a party at Matt's friend's house to watch hundreds of bikes race at top speed in laps around the neighborhood. An impressive wind blew at our hair every time they whirled past us.
We came late, opting to miss the homemade roast beef sandwiches, root beer floats and kids' craft table in favor of letting Carter squeeze an extra half an hour into his midmorning nap.
It seemed he was interested in more exciting things than giant groups of colorful, racing bikes, anyway. Like say, other babies. Or bananas. Or blades of green grass.
Matt held a younger woman. Carter actually got jealous and was batting at her with his hand (aka, hitting her. I soo didn't want to use that word in the same sentence as my baby Carter's name). I, on the other hand, L♥VED the sight of my husband holding a little baby again!
We got home four hours later. Since when did this baby become so defiant? He's getting picky about being held ... when, how, why and who all have to be perfectly in sync.